You're Wrong
by TheWonderfulShoe
Summary: What went through Garrett's mind when he thought he seemed to be dying after being hit with that arrow?  What did those two little words really mean?  Fluff.  Of the sickly, cotton-candy-doused-in-syrup variety.
1. You're Wrong

**A/N: So, I'm trying to get my 5 stories up. It's been a long, long time since I've written fanfiction...and not on this site! The lack of screening sometimes irked me. But I've been relying more and more on when I get the urge, so I decided that I'd like to put myself to work doing something I like, and help people write. This isn't going to be particularly long, and is planned to just be this one-shot. I'm not particularly convinced of my skill or dedication, but I found this movie over 10 years too late to be a fan growing up! I wish I had seen it. It grew on me quickly, though I'll admit I was surprised at first exposure (to the "I Stand Alone" clip!) It grew on me strongly enough that now I think it deserves this little drabble as part of my efforts to beta fics. ;P Hope it's not too terrible! I will admit to taking liberties with the time-frame, since everything seemed remarkably sped up, to me. If I ever come back to Quest for Camelot...it will be to make a fic that is from an extended timeline perspective, expanding on the characters' thoughts. ...just because that sort of project seems interesting to me. ~TheWonderfulShoe**

The pain. It was searing. He felt...warm. And cold. It was pouring, and he was stuck letting Kayley half-guide, half-drag him. Where they were going, he wasn't even sure. The sticky spot on his side—the one that had been a pool of warmth in sharp contrast to the rest of his cold, drenched tunic—was chilling, now. He yearned for the warmth again, even though he knew that it couldn't be good to lose so much blood.

How deep was the gash in his side? He couldn't exactly tell. Was it shock? He clung to Kayley, losing the strength and feeling in his legs. Was he bleeding so much? Was he poisoned, and _that_ was what was sapping his strength? How long had they been half-walking, half-running, fleeing while they could, through the cold and unrelenting rain?

And suddenly, the rain was gone. His legs, which had only kept going through sheer strength of will, gave out, and the girl—so much _smaller_ than he was, in frame!—was only half able to stop his collapse, leaning him against a rock. There were some of the healing plants from the forest that he had shown her along their journey, or so he assumed when she started pressing something thin and papery into his side. Was the tunic torn so much that the wound was exposed? He wanted to check...but he couldn't seem to muster the strength even to move into a position where he could probe his own wounds.

He felt consciousness slipping from him with a stab of white-hot pain as she worked on it, pulling blood-soaked fabric and grime from the outdoors and his tunic away from the wound. He struggled, trying to focus on something, _anything_, to stay with it, to stay awake. She spoke, sounding anguished. Her misery was enough for him to cling to consciousness, though he couldn't make out her words quite yet.

He _had _to make things right by her—_before_ he let himself sleep. After all this time...he had started to realize that he had been wrong about her. Sir Lionel's daughter, who strove to be a Knight of the Round Table—the girl who went running off alone into the Forbidden Forest to save Excalibur, the Kingdom, and her mother.

No...Garrett had been wrong to judge her so hastily, at first. She had started—so subtly and slowly, that he hadn't even noticed—to mean something to him that he couldn't understand, that he couldn't _admit_...not even to himself. Until now, perhaps. Now that he might be about to lose it, to lose the chance to admit it at all.

He clung to her words, finding himself feeling exhausted...and yet somehow at peace. Like he could just...fall asleep, now, if she stayed there—and if he could just hold on, and hear her anguished words, and calm her fearful heart. That first. And _then_ he could _sleep_...that tempting sleep.

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault you're hurt. I mean, I was rattling on when I _should have_ been _quiet_! ...I'm no help to anyone." She sounded so small and defeated. His heart, which felt like it was fluttering a little in its weakness already, broke a little and gave a momentarily stronger thump or two, almost painfully. He felt her drawing away, hearing her breath catch, like she was starting to cry. He couldn't let her leave. Not now. Not if he might...might not get another chance, after now. Once he slept. And sleep was seeming so much more _tempting_, every moment...

How could she say such a thing—_believe_ such a thing, about herself? A momentary flush of emotion, confusion, and turmoil gave his heart another surge, and he groaned, wincing as he tried to turn with the moment of slight strength. He managed to roll and weakly reach up his arm, somehow, thankfully, reaching her shoulder. How could he possibly explain to her, how the opposite was true—how very _much_ she had helped _him_? Maybe..._saved_ him?

He was too weak. Too tired. His mind was sluggish and exhausted, and even the breath to speak to her was hard to suck in as deeply as he needed, in order to talk. His touch seemed to have startled her, and she responded to him, reaching out, grabbing his hand in her two smaller ones.

So small! Yet so _strong_, despite it! Inside _and_ out. She had somehow managed to support him there, despite his bigger bulk from years of living and growing tough in the Forbidden Forest. He knew she must be beautiful, when her beauty could shine so brightly that he could see it despite his ruined eyes. He gasped in painfully, the breath he needed to try to say something—_anything_—to try to express everything, with urgency he felt, and his limited time.

"Shh. Shh, shh..._you're wrong_." He managed simply, reaching up slightly to where he knew her face _must_ be. He felt the tears sliding down her cheeks, and wiped them away. She had helped _him_...more than he knew he would ever get the chance or find the words to say.

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**A/N: This is the end of this story. The next "chapter" is an explanation of my decision to make this story a one-shot...and how/why I decided to make a new story that expands on this concept.**


	2. Author's Note and Preview

**A/N: Sorry to give false hope to those who have subscribed to this story, but I made the decision some time back that it ****_will_****, in fact, remain a one-shot. However, the idea behind this character-based portrayal of the scene kept coming back to me. I even saw somebody else's fic, clearly inspired from the concept of this one and posted a few days later, portraying another scene. The imitation was flattering, even though my understanding of the scene was different. I took it to mean that other people also enjoy taking a deeper look into the scenes and characters, peeking below the surface of a story that is deceptively shallow on first glance, but clearly has more potential and insight on deeper reflection. But how to write it?**

**I usually don't like AU as much as canon-based stories; I hadn't thought I could do a good one of the movie as-is, in this style. That was the biggest reason for my decision to leave this story as a one-shot. But over time, thoughts of how to change the story while still staying true to the spirit of the movie kept coming to me, and I thought of some of my favorite AU stories. After all, I have read and relished in some extremely well-written, creative, insightful AU stories, stories that keep the spirit and personalities of the characters intact, adapting the main concepts and principles of the plot and characters to a new setting. I have really enjoyed them and appreciated the talent of their authors! So, after a lot of thought and a long time of being haunted with the desire to finish more of what I had started...I decided that I would try, despite my hangups about how to make it work and whether I was up to the challenge.**

**So, for those of you who are interested, I have started a "remaking" of the movie plot in this sort of style, expanding the timeline and the characters, in an attempt to make it geared toward a slightly older audience and a deeper psychological/emotional portrayal of the story and characters. There will be differences, but it should still generally line up with the movie plot, and I am trying to keep it in-line with the spirit of the original film. For the sake of fairness, I warn you that updates have been, and will almost certainly continue to be, slow. I am a medical student, and my free time is limited. I write for my own enjoyment, and put it up in hopes to share this hobby that I love with other people. If you think you might enjoy it, feel free to read it; the title is "Through Their Eyes." Any feedback is welcome; your opinions and insights can only help me improve!**

**Now...the promised preview! The first segment of the first chapter of the larger story. I hope you enjoy it! Many thanks to ****Honest Beauty, who noted the problem with this note before! Much appreciated!**

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**Chapter 1: Prologue**

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It was a dark afternoon. Even just an hour past midday, the skies were already near black. The rain was falling, not hard and heavy, but persistent enough to soak anyone to the bone. And for two miserable travelers, this was exactly the case.

The unpaved roads were muddy, and the tired horses flicked their ears uncomfortably in the wet and snorted unhappily. It was one of their long days of riding, which they had tried to alternate to give the horses some rest on the long journey they had undertaken. The younger of the two companions patted his horse's neck with compassion.

"There, now, boy...we've almost arrived."

"Right you are, Arthur. Very close, now...are you ready to face your destiny?" The old man asked gravely, making the young boy shift uncomfortably in the saddle. When he answered, he didn't look up at his companion.

"Of course. Soon, we'll know, one way or another."

"I already know."

"How you can be so certain baffles me entirely."

"Have faith in an old man, Arthur. There is much to be said for life experience, and you should know to respect your elders." He sounded serious, but Arthur knew it was said as an affectionate tease, and smiled wryly down at his saddle.

"And a little magic?" Arthur asked, innocence obviously feigned.

"Perhaps. But not even magic can give me this answer. Some things, old men just know in their bones." Lightning struck in the distance, and Arthur's horse whinnied, starting slightly and skittering a few steps.

"Whoa, there!" Arthur pulled at the reins with a strong and practiced hand, patting the horse's neck, half to comfort the beast and half to be ready to grip in case of the worst.

Merlin just watched on, grave as ever. Not for the first time, Arthur suspected the old wizard had some arcane connection to or power over animals. Even just on this journey, Arthur had learned and noticed things that he had never seen before, where the old man was concerned. No matter how long he knew the wizard, there was always something new to take him just as much by surprise each and every day...


End file.
